


By Chance

by Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)



Series: With Any Luck [1]
Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship, GASP I wrote a fic without feeding Dan in it whaaaattt!!!, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, reader is asexual/aromantic or both, yes you!!! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: Your phone vibrates in your hand. It’s a Tinder notification. From…Dan Avidan? That can’t be right.





	By Chance

**Author's Note:**

> At the request of a handful of my lovely followers on Tumblr, I've decided to venture into the realm of Dan Avidan/You fics! This time, it's to fill a void. There isn't enough friendship fics, as a lot of them are romantic or sexual. So for those who'd rather take selfies instead of make love, this is for you! Enjoy!

Your phone buzzes next to you.

Frowning, you look over at it. You’re friends with a lot of introverts, and you weren’t really expecting anyone to reach out to you. Your immediate thought is that something is wrong, so you pick it up.

It’s a Tinder notification. Someone has messaged you.

Your phone vibrates in your hand. There’s another message. From…Dan Avidan? That can’t be right.

Someone is trolling you.

Curious, though, you open the Tinder app. This faker better know some awesome Grump memes.

The first message is typed out hurriedly with a few spelling errors and no capitalization or punctuation.

Message Received: hey so yeah for charity I have to message someone on tinder and keep the conversation going for five minutes or before I get overwhelmed with notifications since yes this is really me dan

Message Received: I’ll be deleting this later by the way so hi how are you

You wonder if there’s a stream going on right now. Either way, you don’t want to know, especially if your messages to Dan could possibly be broadcast to four million people.

If this even is Dan. You can’t believe you’re even entertaining the thought.

Message Sent: I’m good, “Dan.” How’s the stream, then?

You wait, smug, for the inevitable “hey girl show me your tits,” the usual Tinder fare. It’s why you stopped using it after a while. There are better ways to make friends.

Then again…didn’t you delete the app and turn off notifications? Or did you just block all the assholes?

To your surprise, another message comes in rapidly.

Message Received: good thanks for asking! We’ve raised 50 million

It could be someone watching the stream. 

You keep telling yourself that so you don’t start freaking out. You try very hard not to be “that” fangirl, but let’s be honest: the fact that you could potentially be talking to none other than Dan Avidan, Not-So-Grump himself makes your heart begin to hammer against your chest.

Message Sent: Wow! That’s awesome! I’ll have to donate.

Message Received: only if you can lol no pressure

Message Received: whoops, five minutes are up! Thanks for watching! 

Before you can say anything else, Dan goes offline. When you try to click the profile, you can see it’s been deleted.

After frowning to yourself, you go ahead and delete your Tinder profile before deleting the app. Then, you go and donate to the charity the Grumps are streaming for. It seems Dan is just leaving the stream once you arrive, and has been replaced by a bunch of people you don’t recognize or care about.

Oh well. It was akin to a dare, after all. You mentally shake your head at sadistic Brian Wecht and go on with your day.

~

Since you live in L.A., you’ve always secretly fantasized about meeting Dan in person, running into him in Trader Joe’s or at the mall or Starbucks. You could read all the fanfictions you want, and there isn’t any shortage of them, but whenever you do read them, there’s always lots of…sex, involved.

Even in the fantasies that make you blush, you’ve never thought about having sex with Dan.

On break from work at the mom-and-pop vegan place you work at (you get free food, and it helps you stay healthy, at least), you’re sitting in the well air-conditioned back room with a vegan cheese sandwich (not as bad as it sounds, actually; this plant cheese is pretty okay when mixed with some flavorful rye and siracha), a cup of tea, and your phone, of course. Some customer was getting all in your face, asking if the speck of cheese on his taco was really vegan, all because “it doesn’t taste vegan” and “don’t you love animals” and yada yada, and you needed a minute to clear your head.

Naturally, you’re scrolling through Instagram. Dan’s Instagram, to be exact. You’re casually double tapping when you think of a particularly witty comment. Smiling to yourself, you post the comment. You know there’s no way you’ll get noticed. Dan probably doesn’t even have notifications on. Which is understandable, given his semi-celebrity status.

You’re perfectly okay with Dan Avidan not knowing you exist. Just watching Grumps is enough for you.

As you’re headed back to Instagram’s homepage, however, you get a PM. Huh. That never happens.

Maybe it’s some douchebag asking for a particularly well-angled selfie. You really love breaking hearts when they find out your boobs aren’t really that much to look at. You like them all right, but they’re not Instagram worthy.

As you click over to your PMs, however, your heart skips a beat and you nearly choke on your tea.

It’s a PM from Dan. 

Your eyes barely skim the first line that’s visible before tapping on it.

Message Received: Heyy there, [Y/N]. I recognized you from that thing I had to do for the stream a couple weeks back. Thanks for being cool on air. I really appreciate it.

You start to chew on your lower lip as you hesitantly type out a response. Your heart is in your throat, and you reread it several times before sending it off.

Message Sent: No problem. I’m just glad you weren’t some creepy guy.

You expect that to be that. But as you’re bundling up your trash, you notice there’s another message waiting for you.

Message Received: I can be creepy. 

You type out and send your first reaction before proofreading.

Message sent: Yeah, right.

Message Received: I’ll be waiting for you once you come home. I collect knives. Let me show you my collection.

Message Received: And also my dick.

Message Received: Shit, are you eighteen? I forgot to ask.

You start giggling nervously. This can’t be real. You have to be dreaming.

Still. It’s a good dream. You check the clock, noticing you still have five minutes before you have to go back to work.

Message Sent: Don’t worry, I’m 25. I wouldn’t call the pedo cops on you, anyway.

Message Received: Shit, that was close! Sorry, I’m used to making those kinda jokes for the show, and I totally forgot who I was messaging.

Message Sent: I’ll take that as a compliment.

Message Received: Cool.

You wait, staring at your phone while the last minutes of your break ticks by, but that seems to be it.

Wow, you think, getting ready to head back out into the fray, that was fucking surreal.

~

Ninja Sex Party is playing locally, and you’re lucky enough to be right on time to ticket sales. Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve spent $20 more for a V.I.P. meet and greet. Immediately, you feel that all too familiar buyer’s remorse, and you spent the rest of the day scolding yourself.

What are you expecting to happen? It’s not like he’s going to recognize you. It’s been months since that weird DM incident, and Dan hasn’t contacted you since. I mean, why would he? You’re just some fan.

One fan in an entire sea of Lovelies. And Dan is afraid of the ocean.

~

The day of the concert comes. You find yourself getting all dressed up. New converse, your most flattering pair of skinny jeans (medium wash, with artistic rips), an NSP tee shirt (of course), and makeup. Nothing too flashy, just a little bit more than your usual lip gloss and mascara. You’re not sure what you’re hoping for, if you’re hoping for anything.

The V.I.P. line is not what you’d expect. The group is mostly older, mostly men, talking loudly in groups. There are a few teen girls with a very unimpressed parent chaperone. You thank your lucky stars you’re an introvert in that moment.

The nicest part, of course, is stage proximity. You see signs and smell weed, and the arena is freezing cold. You’re shivering in a tee shirt. But your heart is thumping in your chest.

You stand quiet for the opener, enjoying the music but still feeling shy. You’re surrounded by Lovelies, so you should feel right at home, but it’s not kicking in yet. People are already shoving you, trying to move past you, but you fight to keep your good spot, front and center against the barriers at the front of the floor just before the stage.

And then, Ninja Sex Party comes out. 

Everyone is cheering, chanting, their arms up in the air. And the excitement is catching; you join in, not caring if you ruin your voice before the first song.

And there he is.

Dan is stunning in his Sexbang suit, lively and bombastic, bouncing around the stage, arms out like he’s trying to hang-glide with his cape. The audience is going wild, plenty of people now furiously chanting “WE WANT HANDJOBS,” but you find yourself admiring the sheer beauty of him.

He looks at home here, a way you couldn’t imagine feeling with a thousand eyes watching your every move. The stage lights get lost in his curls and are blinding against the shiny spandex, little rainbows falling on the ground as he stands still, over the microphone.

“Sup, L.A.?” He asks, waving goofily.

The audience cheers, you included.

They open with “Unicorn Wizard,” one of your favorites, and you start to dance and bounce with everyone else, losing yourself to the energy of the show.

~

The show is over.

The V.I.P. meetup is in ten minutes.

You keep checking and double-checking the email you got that has all the information on it while seriously debating whether or not to just bail. Your stomach is tied up in a billion knots, you’re thirsty and sweaty, and you probably smell.

But you paid for the V.I.P. ticket. Might as well justify the extra money, right?

Sighing, you fix your hair before leaving the bathroom.

And your phone’s almost dead. Great. 

You take a deep breath and head back out into the fray.

~

The meetup is a lot different than the show.

Dan and Brian are both dressed casually, and Brian’s hair is still damp, whether from sweat or water, you can’t tell. Brent and some intimidating security personnel have given strict instructions to line up against the wall and stay still. You are not supposed to move from your spot or speak until spoken to. You are allowed to ask for a hug or a picture, not both. Despite feeling like a schoolkid again, you decide to follow the rules. Those security guys are at least a foot taller than you.

Dan and Brian are moving down the line pretty quickly, though they seem a bit more lax about the rules than was previously suggested. They’re talking and laughing, parroting quotes and giving hugs, taking selfies. Before you can blink, they’re right next to you, talking to that group of teens and barely getting a word in edgewise. 

Dan looks up at some point, and the two of you lock eyes, but you blush and look away. You’re so nervous to actually be this close to Dan Avidan. You could reach out and touch him, if you so dared.

“Hi!” 

Dan startles you, and you jerk your head up from where you were staring at your feet. He laughs, easy, as if you’ve just told a joke. Brian pokes his side, making him jump, too.

“Brian!” Dan whines, flapping an arm at Brian.

“You scared her, I scared you.” Brian smirks. “There. You’re even.” He extends a hand to you to shake, and you take it. “Can I have your name, please?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, it’s [Y/N].”

“A great name. We almost named Audrey that.”

Dan scoffs. “Will you stop saying that to every female fan we meet?” He looks at you, and for a second, you think he recognizes you. You can’t help holding your breath because, really, you’re a bit in awe. You’re close enough to reach out and touch Dan Avidan. This can’t be real. 

“Did you enjoy the show?”

Well, there went that fantasy. You try not to let your heartbreak show on your face because, honestly, what were you expecting? This isn’t a fanfiction (not that you want what most fanfics promise). This is reality. 

And celebrities don’t remember fans.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to say, tripping over your own shallow breaths. “It was amazing. Unicorn Wizard is one of my favorite songs.”

Dan’s eyes twinkle for a moment, and then he beams. “Mine too, [Y/N]. You want a hug?”

You agree, and his long arms envelop you. His body still feels overly warm; he’s probably still cooling down from being on stage. He smells a little bit like sweat, but mostly like something…vaguely spicy. Like a woodsy cologne. But you can’t really put your finger on it.

“Okay, Romeo, let’s go,” Brian grumbles, tugging on Dan’s shirt. 

Dan giggles. “Yes, boss. Bye, [Y/N]! It was nice meeting you! Thank you for coming!”

You nod, waving shyly, and watch him go down the line. You can feel the smile on your face and, more importantly, the phantom warmth of his body against yours.

It felt…reassuring, somehow. Like a hug from your mom. Simple, but familiar and full of love. 

But he probably hugs everyone like that. You’re not special.

~

You’re the last one out, just by virtue of everyone pushing past you for a chance to see NSP get on the bus, or to catch Ubers and taxis back home. You don’t have anywhere to be urgently, because you parked your car just up the street, not too far from the venue, and everyone else is just a little bit more forceful than you care to be.

You’re stopped by one of the burly security guards before you can actually leave the building. “You. Come with me.”

You can’t help immediately jumping to the worst conclusion. What did you do wrong? Were you behaving inappropriately at the meet and greet? Was it about the hug? Did they think you were hanging on him? Everything you walk past is a blur as you follow the security guard, your heart beating loud like the bass in your eardrums, wondering if you’re going to get arrested, if the police will hurt you, if you’ll never get to see your family again…

You almost bump into the security guard as he stops at a door. ”Wait here,” he orders before going inside. You can hear voices behind the door. Is it Brent? It’s probably Brent, with some kind of restraining order, and…

The guard reappears, and you try to pretend like you’re not going to burst into tears. “Okay, come in.”

You grasp hold of the doorknob and follow him.

The room is small, and looks like a lounge area. It’s decorated with the same garish colors as the theatre outside, with some armchairs, two beanbag chairs, and an old couch pushed into the corner. To your surprise, the room is empty except for none other than Dan Avidan, now in sweatpants, feet up on the coffee table between the two armchairs, his head cradled by a neck pillow. It’s moving; it’s a massage pillow. 

You’ve always thought that Dan was attractive, and this doesn’t disprove it. His eyes are closed, lashes fanned over his cheeks, his wild hair everywhere, and his head is tipped back against the pillow. He looks tired, though, and you immediately begin to wonder why you’re here.

The guard clears his throat. He’s standing behind you against the door, blocking the only exit, and you nervously step forward. But it seems this is for Dan’s benefit, as he sits up, the pillow falling away, stretching languidly. When he opens his eyes, he looks right at you, and smiles. “Oh, hey, [Y/N]! Sorry for scaring you.”

“It’s okay,” you say nervously, unsure of what’s going on. This is a trap, right?

Dan starts to talk, but it comes out a hoarse jumble of words. He coughs, clearing his throat, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds strained. “You can sit if you like.”

You slowly cross the room and sit on the armchair across from him. As you look up, you catch Dan yawning, and you realize with a start that you are seeing Dan in a very vulnerable state. He is showing you what he looks like once the adrenaline wears off, something that isn’t public. 

He trusts you.

You’re not sure that you deserve that.

“Thanks for being cool during the meet and greet,” Dan says, leaning back in the armchair and crossing his legs. He’s in socks, you realize shyly. “I’m not supposed to play favorites.” He giggles. “Once Brent finds out I did this, I’m so dead.”

“Why?” You say dumbly. Dan raises an eyebrow, and you try to clarify. “I mean, is he gonna find out?”

Dan shrugs. “I mean, you’re gonna tweet this, post this, story this…”

“Story this?” You ask, incredulous.

“Instagram stories!” Dan defends his word choice with a cry that makes his voice crack and a wild gesticulation. “Duh!”

There’s a moment of silence before you both laugh softly.

“That’s definitely not what it’s called. And no, I’m not.”

Dan shrugs again easily. You wish you could be so nonchalant. “I’m old. Still catching up on all the hip lingo.” Then, he seems to realize something and sits forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re…not going to post about this? Are you serious?”

You nod. “Yeah. I mean…” You hesitate, trying to explain. “It’s like…this is your off time.” You look at your lap, fiddling with your purse strap. “I wouldn’t want anyone to know what I look like in sweatpants, either.”

Dan giggles, and it sounds like the genuine bubbly giggles you’ve heard so many times on Grumps. Knowing that you made him laugh makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Thank you,” he says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “That really means a lot to me. You have no idea.”

You smile kindly as a response until something occurs to you. “Wait…why did you want me to come here, if you thought I might post about it?”

“I owe you a selfie.” Dan replies, smiling. 

You shake your head. “You don’t…really, it’s okay…”

“It’s the least I can do. I don’t think many Lovelies could be so chill when they’ve had my attention multiple times.” 

You look up from your lap, watching him. He’s looking at you, but his eyes are a bit distant, reminding you of a sleepy toddler ready for a nap. And you realize that he must really appreciate what’s going on between you two.

It’s not a sudden escalation, like a fanfic, and it’s not crazy fans anxiously and excitedly talking at him. It’s, weirdly, kinda like being friends.

You blush at the thought of that word. Can you consider yourself a friend of his? I mean, he’s more than ten years your senior, and you are a fan. A fan can’t really be a true friend…

…right?

Oh well. You’ll have time to crush all the hope that comes with that later. Dan’s waiting for an answer.

“Thanks. I’d like that.” You reach for your phone, and curse quietly.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asks.

“My phone died.” You groan. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll just go, you probably need to sleep and stuff and…”

“My phone works,” Dan says, waving his cellphone cheekily at you. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Sure,” you reply, surprised.

You and Dan both stand up, and before you know it, Dan has his arm comfortably around your shoulder, holding the phone up in a perfect MySpace angle, gently toting you around and mumbling about “good lighting.” The skin on his bare arm is slightly cool, and you can feel the veins and muscle against your neck. He smells kind of like soap up close, and his hair touches your forehead. It’s got a really rough texture, which doesn’t surprise you, but it doesn’t smell like you always thought it would.

Dan takes a few selfies, and then suggests that you should stand on one of the chairs so you’re more equal in height. Laughing, you awkwardly climb up, but you feel a little scared being up so high on an unstable surface. Dan notices your discomfort, though, and slides over to stand beside you.

“Lean on my shoulder.”

“Are you sure?” You giggle nervously. “I’m gonna break you.”

Dan snorts. “I do lift, y’know. Ginmme some credit!”

You laugh, and teasingly press a little harder than necessary. Dan pretends his shoulder is broken, and you laugh. 

It’s been a surreal night, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finally, the selfies are all taken. Dan promises to send them all to you through Instagram DM before he deletes them, but won’t let you see what they look like. You guess that’s fair; his phone is probably full of all kinds of private stuff.

“Oh, shit!” Dan exclaims, looking at his phone. “I gotta get on the bus. I was supposed to be on the bus ten minutes ago! Fuck. Let me call you an Uber.” He starts tapping away on his phone.

“It’s okay,” you start to say, “I’m not parked all that far away…”

“You sure?” Dan looks up from his phone. You nod. “Let me at least walk you out. It should be fine, right?” He looks at the guard, who nods. “Cool. Come on.” He slips on his shoes, and you follow him out. “Which side are you parked on?”

“I’m closest to the front of the building.”

“Perfect! The bus is parked around the corner.”

You follow him through the theatre. He seems to know this place pretty well, but you can’t remember if Ninja Sex Party has played here or not. 

You also think you should thank him. Tonight has been…amazing.

You and Dan are at the front of the building. Dan yawns again, stretching. “This good?”

“Yeah. I’m just a little ways down the street.”

“Cool.” Dan smiles and reaches out to clap you on the shoulder. “Welp. See ya around, [Y/N].”

“Wait!” You say. He turns back around, eyes wary, and you want to rectify that. “I just wanted to say…” This is a dream come true, tonight was awesome, can we hang out again? “…thank you. I promise to keep it to myself.”

Dan smiles, relieved. “Yeah, I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“What?” He…likes me? What?

Dan giggles. “I gotta go. I’ll DM you once I get on the bus, okay?”

“Oh!” The pictures. Right. “Oh, thanks so much!”

“No problem!” Dan waves before heading out the door. “Night, [Y/N]!”

“Goodnight, Dan!” You call after him. After waiting a moment, you leave the theatre and head back to your car.

You don’t get a DM from Dan that night. You don’t know why it stings.

~

The next afternoon finds you getting lunch at your favorite place when you get an Instagram notification.

It’s a DM. From Dan.

Inside, there are several images, the selfies you took with him that night. There’s two silly ones in the bunch, and you smile as you look at them, remembering the dreamlike experience in the tiny lounge with someone you look up to and admire feeling more like a new friend than a celebrity.

As you’re saving each picture to your phone, you get a new DM.

Message Received: Sorry I forgot to send these! I literally passed out on the bus!

You smile, and start typing a reply.

Message Sent: It’s okay. Thanks for hanging onto them for me.

You don’t hear from him again after that.

…at least not until the Game Grumps Live tour dates are announced.

Message Received: Hey! So, you didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a V.I.P. ticket with your name on it if you want it. Does the L.A. liveshow work for you?


End file.
